Nothing
by rawshark
Summary: He would gladly suffer every day for the rest of his existence, if it secured even just one day of her happiness. Darkfic. (TRIGGER WARNING INSIDE)


**Author's notes:**

*****TRIGGER WARNING: miscarriage.**

**AU darkfic. A bit of a departure from my normally positive, fluffy material.**

**Please R&amp;R!**

* * *

"Fiona."

Silence. She lay with her back to him, facing the window, as her husband stood at the threshold of their bed chamber.

"Please. Ye hav'ta eat somethin'."

He could see the rise and fall of her body as she breathed, too fast for her to be asleep. He knew she could hear him.

"Would ye at least have some tea?" Shrek had learned long ago just the way she liked it; after another defeaning moment of silence, he set it on the nearby side table. His eyes fell upon the opposite side's - Fiona's - night stand. The candle she religiously lit it night after night, to remind herself she had nothing to fear, sat cold and dark, despite the late hour; when she had failed to light it the previous night, and now tonight, Shrek needn't question why. Only the moon served as illumination, casting the house in grayscale.

It had been just two days; Lillian and Artie had likely only just received word, if even yet.

Shrek pulled his hand slowly down his face, in vain attempt to wipe away the tiredness that never seemed to disappear, no matter how long he slept. He stepped forward and sat on his side of the bed, his own back to her, now. She didn't budge.

He sat for what felt like hours, staring straight ahead at the bedroom curtain. He was so tired, but the knowledge of what he would dream of kept him awake. He felt her behind him, and knew she laid awake for that same reason.

He was about to tell her, as he had a hundred times already, that it was okay, but stopped himself.

Because it wasn't. It wasn't okay. Nothing about anything at all was remotely okay. Shrek knew that, of course; he just so desperately wanted - no, _needed_ \- to fix everything for her, and the unchangeable fact that he couldn't made him feel worthless.

He lifted his head from his hands, which he realized it had fallen into, and exhaled, turning his head slightly to see her in his peripheral. "I know."

"No. You don't." The fact alone that she responded was enough to startle him. Her voice was flat and uninflected, and the words themselves so callous, she may as well have stabbed him through the chest with a sword, like Charming should've done months ago.

"Wha-"

"You actually don't know, Shrek." She cut him off and rose to sit, turning to face him. Her eyes were dull and glassy, like a masterpiece painting left out in the rain. But what struck Shrek most was how hard they had become. How they bore through him as if he were nothing.

"You didn't carry a life - LIVES - inside you for _five months_. _You_ didn't feel them grow and move and change in you every single day." Her voice grew louder with each sentence - more accusing, more unforgiving.

"YOU didn't endure sickness - and fatigue - " she pounded his chest with every word - "and discomfort- All just t-" she grabbed his vest and shook with her last ounce of strength, her voice dry and cracked, "YOU didn't ha-have- t-t-t-"

Fiona's grip on Shrek's vest weakened as she collapsed inconsolable into his chest. For the first time in two days, she cried - violent, gasping, broken sobs of a mother-to-be who never was. Shrek held her tight to him, and rocked her back and forth.

He didn't care if she'd meant it or not; he wish she had, honestly, because it was true - he _didn't _know. He couldn't begin to comprehend what she had felt or experienced, before, during or after, or even now. So no, he didn't know. What he did know, however, was what it was like to watch it happen, to the woman he loved more than anything, right in front of his eyes without a damn thing he could do about it.

Her fingers clenched his rough burlap shirt, and he heard her choke "I'm sorry," over and over again. His hold on her strengthened, and all he could do was shush her, even though he knew it would do nothing to soothe either of them.

Shrek kissed the top of her head and, for the first time, let himself cry, as well.

He would gladly suffer every day for the rest of his existence, if it secured even just one day of her happiness. That day seemed as if it would not come for a long time. For now, however, they had nothing to cling to but each other.


End file.
